Erasing Lines
by TheGethhaveacrushonme
Summary: Your average kinky, smutty, at some point probably unbearably fluffy Jackanda story. Wildly meandering points of view. I really tried to get in some halfway plausible character development, but my impatience always gets the better of me. Tell me what you think! Rated M for reasons.
1. Chapter 1

Were she an average person, her fingers would have been strumming onto the desktop. But Miranda wasn't average. Oh, she didn't think she was perfect. She was a highly intelligent woman, after all, and knew that 'designed for perfection' and 'perfect' were not the same thing. Still. She was a whole lot better than most people. Which was why she was bored now. Shepard was groundside, dealing with other people's petty personal issues instead of focusing on the mission, and there was nothing for her to do until she returned. No more reports to write. No upgrades to manage. There was no slack to pick up. There was never any slack. She was very efficient.

She didn't believe in socialising with the crew the way Shepard did. They should all be professionals, after all. Some, of course, more so than others. She let her thoughts drift for a moment. She was sure she could always get Jacob into bed with her again. He had been good at that. A little too eager, though, and awfully clingy after. No, it wouldn't do. He'd have feelings again and that was the last thing she needed. And the last thing he needed, too.

She was still contemplating, when the door to her office slid open and Jack stomped in. To her surprise, Miranda felt a spark of exitement. A good fight was almost as good as a fuck. And the feelings involved were usually much easier to deal with.

"What do you want?" she asked sharply.

"Shepard promised me access to all the files, cheerleader. All of them."

"And I said she didn't have the authorisation for that." She leant back, looked up at the freak. "_I_ don't have the authorisation for that. You'll have to make do with what you've been given so far."

Jack glared at her.

"Now get out of my office."  
"And what if I don't?"

They stared at one another with unadulterated hostility. Then Miranda pushed herself up.

"Then I will make you."

Jack sneered.

"Oh, I'd love for you to try."

Miranda's barriers were good, but they couldn't do much against the force slamming her desktop against her, as Jack almost casually aimed a shockwave at her.

"Come on, cheerleader, you don't want me to really hurt you, do you? Because I will."  
She watched as Miranda struggled to her feet again. For what is was worth, the cheerleader hadn't yet lost her poise entirely.

"I'll admit I can't compete with your biotics. Without them, you couldn't possibly beat me."

Jack snorted.

"Why would I want to do that, anyway?"

"That's what I thought."

Miranda watched her and almost smiled when Jack rose to the bait. So easy to manipulate.

"Fine. I won't use them. Come on, throw me out."

Jack was, admittedly, stronger than she looked. And it was hard to find purchase on her almost entirely naked upper body. Miranda tried to grab her by the shoulders and haul her around, to shove her out the door, but Jack wound out of her grasp with a mercurial grace Miranda hadn't expected, before tackling her.

"Oh, cheerleader. You really thought you could do better, didn't you?"  
She had Miranda pressed face-first against the hull with all her weight, arms pinned down at her sides.

"Actually, I'd thought you'd last longer, too. But little Miss Perfect didn't want to get her hands dirty on the icky convict's body, did she? You're too prissy for a good fight, princess. Figures. Keep struggling, it's a glorious feeling."  
She was so close, Miranda could feel Jack's breath against her neck as she taunted her. She tried to free herself with all of her might, but there was just no space for her to try and throw Jack off.

"You'll regret this," she hissed.

"Going to complain to Saint Shepard?"

"That's enough!"

Miranda felt Jack's hold around her wrists slackening, then she was free.

"Why do you care, Vakarian? You hate Cerberus just as much as any reasonable person," Jack complained.

Miranda turned around, huffing, and looked at the turian standing in the door.

"It is impossible to concentrate on my calibrations with the racket you were making. Besides, the Commander wouldn't be too happy if I'd let you kill each other while she's away."

"Come on, if I'd wanted to kill her, she'd be dead."

"Well, have your pissing contest somewhere else, then."

Jack shrugged.

"I'm done here, anyway," she said, then walked past him casually.

"You are the XO here, you should know better," Garrus said after a moment.

"Easy for you to say, Vakarian, she doesn't come barging into the main battery, looking for a fight."

His mandibles clicked.

"But thanks," she muttered after a moment.

"You're welcome."

He went back to his work and Miranda locked the door behind him, then walked over to her bed, feeling high strung and irritated. She examined her wrists, traced her fingers over the reddened skin. She didn't bruise easily and wondered for a moment if it would show later. Bit her lip at the memory of being so out of control. The entirely unbidden jolt between her legs as she'd struggled against Jack's hold on her, realising she was trapped. _Glorious_. There had been something in Jack's voice that moment. Almost a purr. It had made her struggle harder, even as she'd felt inexplicably aroused.

She frowned.

Well, it had been ages since...

Damnit.

She needed a cold shower.

She jumped off the bed, then unlocked the door again and walked over to the ladies' bathroom. Just before she could enter, though, the elevator opened. Miranda almost cringed at the sight of Yeoman Chambers, looking at her with big eyes and an oddly worried smile.

"Miss Lawson, is everything alright? I heard there was a commotion."

For a moment, Miranda found it hard to keep her contempt at bay, then she forced her voice to take on a neutral tone.

"It was nothing, Kelly. Do you understand? Nothing at all. Nothing to report. Nothing to tell the Commander about."

Kelly blinked, then nodded quickly.

"Of course, Miss Lawson." Kelly licked her lips nervously. For an absolutely insane moment, Miranda wondered if she could just order Kelly to take that shower with her. The woman would probably be glad to assist, considering her devoted, uncompromising promiscuity. Then the reality of what she was thinking hit her and she turned away, disgusted with both of them.

"Dismissed," she said tersely and Kelly got the hint, making her way back to the CIC.


	2. Chapter 2

_So, uhm, that character development I was talking about? Not happening in this chapter. This is very much PWP. _

* * *

She had to acknowledge it, she couldn't get Jack out of her mind. Whenever she had some spare time, Miranda was planning how to get back at her. She might not be able to defeat her physically, but there were other ways to gain some hold over Jack. She wouldn't rush it. Planning and patience were her forte. And unlike other people, she did have access to most of the files, and all the reports.

And if she wanted to, she could be charming. She didn't pry, but some people were sneaky and nosy and knew everything that was going on. The little thief was glad to have someone to talk to after accompanying Shepard and Jack to the Citadel, especially since she'd been rather disturbed by Jack casually reminiscing about having been raped in prison.

"What were you even doing in that bathroom?" Miranda asked, trying to act the right kind of scandalised, while taking mental notes.

"I know, right? Shep does the oddest things. I think she was drunk, but it's hard to tell with her. Jack gives me the creeps, though I suppose there's a reason why she is the way she is."

"Or several."

The final thing she needed came from an unexpected source, though. After she was done laughing about it, she felt she was ready. She grabbed the datapad and made her way down into engineering.

Jack sat on her cot, lips twitching as Miranda came into view.

The red lighting was odd. It made everything look as if it were covered in a thin patina of blood.

"Look what the cat's dragged in. Haven't I already kicked your ass a few weeks ago?" She didn't change her stance, pretended to be disinterested, but her eyes followed Miranda's every move.

"You wanted access to all files on you. I thought you might be interested in this, not for any actual insight, but maybe for a laugh." Miranda tried to keep her tone neutral.

Jack raised her eyebrows.

"What is it?"

"Something I downloaded from Shepard's terminal. Had a nice little chat with Yeoman Chambers at some point, didn't you? I'm surprised you didn't rip her apart. Tell me, did you come on to her or is she simply referring to what comes up on the extranet when searching for Subject Zero?"

Jack was still looking unimpressed. Oh, everyone thought she was so volatile, but after watching her for weeks, after reading everything she found on her, Miranda had come to a different conclusion. You didn't survive what Jack had gone through by acting on impulse all the time. No, the woman in front of her knew exactly when to remain calm, and in spite of what everyone else was thinking, she had herself under control, most of the time. The majority of her displays were an act, a way to build up her reputation and maintain a safe distance to the rest of the crew, and it was an act which, Miranda figured, Jack only allowed herself because she felt relatively safe with Shepard around. You didn't unnecessarily bait people you considered enemies, even if you were Subject Zero. It was another little snippet she was planning to throw at her in due time, that she felt safe on a Cerberus ship, with a Cerberus crew.

Not so much around Miranda, though.

"Is there a point to this? Are you going to give me that or just stand there, looking like an Omegan whore?"

Miranda raised one eyebrow quite elegantly and started reading:

"'Her attitude suggests deep personal issues. She pushes people away, yet approaches sex casually. I don't think she understands her own motivations.'" Miranda shook her head. "Isn't that a cute little assessment, Jack? Telling us what we already know? That you have issues? Why is it, though, that you approach sex casually? Kelly must have wrecked her pretty little brain on that one. Psychology 101 appears to have failed her. _Do_ you know your own motivations, Jack?"

"Fuck off, bitch."

"Want me to tell you why the extranet is full of people bragging about how they fucked one of the most dangerous criminals outside the Terminus Systems?"

"Oh yeah, enlighten me, princess. I can't wait," Jack said sarcastically, still maintaining a veneer of calm.

"The reason why you fuck around so indiscriminately is that it is the only way to deal with all those times it wasn't consensual. Devaluing your rape. If you don't care who you fuck, it doesn't matter who fucked you."

That did the trick. She was on her knees in a flash, her arm twisted painfully onto her back. The datapad fell to the floor with a cluttering noise. She didn't struggle this time, knowing she wouldn't be able to win against Jack. It didn't matter, anyway, she'd already won. She'd wanted to hurt Jack, she'd done that.

That was why she'd done this, right? It wasn't because she needed to feel this way again, Jack's fingers bruising her wrists, the other hand yanking her head back by her hair, with no way for her to regain control.  
Not because she'd known she'd be throbbing against her slightly too tight now uniform once Jack managed to overwhelm her again.

"Do you want to know what it feels like to be completely helpless while somebody hurts you, precious?" Jack hissed into her ear.

To her shame, Miranda let out a moan. Jack let go of her in surprise. Miranda kept her position, but let her arms and head sink. Looked at the floor with the realisation that she'd done all this just to feel this way again. Her hair fell around her face like a curtain, but she still saw Jack moving around her, until she stood in front of Miranda.

Miranda hissed as Jack grabbed her hair again, forced her to look up. What she saw in Miranda's face made Jack falter momentarily. But then another expression came over her face. She smiled disconcertingly.

"No wonder you're so interested in who I'm fucking and why," Jack said softly, though with a distinct edge to her voice. "Look at you, all needy and docile. You could give those Omegan whores a run for their money." She all but stroked Miranda's hair for a moment. "Tell me what you want. I can see it in your face, but you'll have to ask for it. Nicely."

Jack's hand clenched in her hair again, as Miranda tried to avert her eyes.

"Look at me."

"Please," Miranda whispered.

"Please what?"

Jack was loving this. She'd eyed the cheerleader up before, she wasn't blind, after all. There was no way not to appreciate her body, albeit grudgingly. It hadn't really bothered her, hell, she'd fucked so many people she hadn't liked, a few glances at Miranda's barely concealed tits and ass were nothing in comparison. After all, she'd been quite sure her hatred for the cheerleader was a mutual feeling. But this... It was truly glorious. Miranda Lawson, on her knees, looking up at her with such undisguised need, it was hard not to just pull her face against her crotch and see if that tongue was good for anything else but throwing insults at her. She was fairly sure the idea was on the other woman's mind, too.

She hadn't taken her for a sub. But then, it made sense. She was a prissy little control freak, after all. It was a bit of a cliché, but Jack didn't mind. Hell, did she not mind.

"Come on, be a good little whore and tell me what you want." She tightened her hold on the other woman's hair for good measure.

"I... I want to taste you."

Jack chuckled.

"Not so prissy anymore, are we?"

Jack opened her trousers awkwardly with her left hand, glad for once that they were so baggy they just fell from her hips with little effort on her part. She kept Miranda's head steady, while looking over her shoulder, to see how close she was to the wall behind her. She took a step back, pulling Miranda along on her knees, leant against the wall and spread her legs as best she could, then finally pushed Miranda's head into her lap.

Miranda buried her burning face against Jack's mound, inhaled her scent, kissed the soft black curls, then slid her tongue down the slick folds without hesitation. Found her clit, small and hard, circled her tongue around it, then sucked experimentally, causing Jack's hips to buckle.

"No hands!" Jack hissed as Miranda's fingers moved to clutch at Jack's thighs. She dropped them immediately, compensated by moving her tongue deeper, licking up and down Jack's opening, before tensing her tongue and pushing it inside. Jack moved her hips in time with her tongue for a while, then pulled Miranda back a little.  
"Suck me off!" she ordered, and Miranda's lips closed around her clit almost immediately.

Jack swore, fingers clawing in Miranda's hair, while trying not to slide down the wall as she arched her back and the force of her orgasm hit her.

"Slow down." She let Miranda continue for a moment, then pulled away from her. She kept kneeling on the floor, looking, for lack of a better word, lost, and a part of Jack wanted to leave her in this mess, reject her now that she'd had her fun. It was tempting, but the thought of making her beg for Jack to fuck her was even more so.

"Get up."

Miranda obeyed, too slow for Jack's taste. She grabbed her arm and pulled her up roughly, hauled her over to the table and bent her over it. Her hands moved to the front of that ridiculous catsuit and pulled down the zipper in one swift movement, then peeled Miranda out of it. At least down to her knees. Her exposed skin was warm and sweaty, and the sight of her made Jack bite her lips.

"Gee, princess, you got really hot in there, servicing me, didn't you? You're pathetic. Although you have a lovely ass. Shame you hide it in that ugly piece of a Cerberus uniform."

She gave it a sharp slap, smiled at the way Miranda twitched, at the imprint blossoming under her hand, then raked her nails up Miranda's sides, leaving angry red scratches. She bent over her and cupped her breasts with both hands, kneading them firmly, making Miranda wimper and push back against her. She tugged at her nipples sharply, then retreated.

"So eager to be fucked. Oh, I wish everyone could see you like this."

Jack reached between Miranda's legs and briefly ran a single finger through the slick heat. Miranda gave a strangled sob.

"You're positively dripping. I bet your cunt is perfect, isn't it, Miranda?"

The mention of her actual name made Miranda freeze. Lord, what was she doing here, letting Jack do this to her? But she had no will to stop. She had never before felt need like this in her entire life. What was wrong with her?

"Remind me what it is that you want me to do, precious."

Miranda was torn apart by the need to surrender completely and the desperate wish to hold on to her last bit of dignity. The silence made Jack laugh.

"I can wait."

She could almost feel the other woman's internal struggle. It made Jack smirk, as she drank in her sight. Head and upper body pressed onto the table, hands clutching its far edge hard, her very, very shapely rear pushed up into the air, offering herself up wordlessly, legs spread far enough to give her easy access, and a nice view of her swollen, glistening sex.

"You're a lovely shade of pink," Jack said softly.

"Please!" Miranda pressed out.

"Please what?"

A moment of silence, broken by hitching breaths.

"Please fuck me."

"Please fuck me...?"

"Please fuck me, Jack!"

Jack laughed.

"Good, but not enough. Try again."

"Please fuck me, ma'am," Miranda all but whispered.

"Good. Remember this moment."

And Jack relented, driving into her hard with two fingers, then three. Miranda felt impossibly hot around her, clutching at her fingers, driving back against Jack's hand with abandon. Jack bent over her, her free hand slipping beneath Miranda, pushing between the table and Miranda's tits, rubbing and squeezing them roughly, before she let it move down Miranda's body, running her fingers through the neatly trimmed curls, then centred on her clit. She revelled in the scream Miranda gave, her hips moving wildly, walls clenching hard around Jack's fingers, cries turning into sobs as Jack continued the movements of both hands.

"It's your lucky day, cheerleader, I'm feeling generous, I'll give you a few more, just so you won't forget," Jack breathed against Miranda's ear, then bit down on her shoulder for good measure.

Miranda had stopped thinking entirely. The whole galaxy had narrowed down to the sensations between her legs and the way Jack's body was trapping her against the table, as she coaxed one orgasm after the other out of her.

When Jack finally let go of her, Miranda's knees gave way and she sank down onto the floor again, trembling, panting. She felt Jack's fingers brushing against her lips and opened them without even an order, licking her juices off.

"I think I'm going to keep you," Jack purred.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a good distraction, and Jack loved the power games. The cheerleader came down every time under some vague pretense, threw irrelevant insults at her, then let Jack overpower her. Sometimes she was obedient, but sometimes she would struggle, and afterwards, Jack would try very hard not to think about how much it turned her on when she could feel Miranda straining futilely against her hold. In the one single, very brief and forced conversation they had had about their arrangement, she'd made Miranda chose a safeword. Of course it had to be 'Cerberus'. She'd spanked her hard for that later on, but the cheerleader hadn't used it so far.

She let Miranda lick her, it was the only touch she allowed. It was more than enough, the cheerleader was almost too good at that. Jack made her beg for every touch. Made her tell Jack her dirty little secrets, like where she'd learned to eat out like that. As it turned out, the cheerleader had had recreational flings with asari, despite the entire 'humanity first' schtick.

Jack was well aware that she was being used in some twisted way, even as Miranda let her have her way with her. At first, though, the idea of dominating the Cerberus bitch had thrilled her so much, she'd pushed that thought aside. And then she'd started really getting off on it, and that had made her edgy, but not enough to stop. It wasn't like there were any other thrills to have had on this ship.

Well, Shepard occasionally came down to talk, and despite her initial resistance and attempts to scare her off by simply being her usual abrasive self, Jack had started to not hate it quite so much. For a while, she'd wondered what that odd woman wanted from her, more than what she already had - her cooperation on this batshit insane mission. She'd even briefly wondered if the Commander was hitting on her, but that hadn't been it, either. Jack had had a relatively pleasant chat with Tali'Zorah, when she'd not been able to contain her curiosity about the quarian and had come slinking up into engineering to have a look at her. She hated Cerberus almost as much as Jack, they'd bonded over that. Well, what counted as bonding with Jack. The quarian had told her that it was just the way Shepard behaved, she truly wanted to know all about the people under her command. Apparently, it made her a good leader or something equally trite. But talking to Shepard a few times was not quite the thrill that could keep her from being horribly bored. And alone with her thoughts. No, her exertions with the cheerleader were much better suited to taking her mind off everything. Even when they weren't fucking, Jack had a good time thinking about all the things she could call her, make her do, do to her.

Just a distraction.

And then the cheerleader started dropping by less. Not that Jack cared. Something was eating at Miranda, Jack could tell, but what did she care? Really, it had nothing to do with her.

* * *

. . .

"Jack! What brings you up here?"

"I come up here a lot. It's where the facilities are."

The lips, which were the only thing giving away Kasumi's expression, curled into a slightly strained smile.

"Alright, then what brings you in here? Drinks? Most of the crew come here for drinks on occasion, but you've never..."

"Yes, drinks."

She sat down at the bar, back to Kasumi, although she hated turning her back to anyone, really, and forced herself to be calm and swallow the first shot.

"What was the mission on Illium like?" she asked after a moment. Subtlety just wasn't her thing.

"Oh. We managed to save Miranda's sister, but the contact she'd trusted in had betrayed her to her father. I can't quite believe a man like Miranda's father exists. Sounds like the textbook example of a sociopath. Psychopath? No offense, by the way."

"Whatever," Jack muttered, trying to process all that information. "What about her father?"

And then Kasumi, terrible gossip that she was, finally told her all the sordid details.

Alright, she thought, as she made her way back down into engineering, swaying ever so slightly after a few more shots, there was a reason why the cheerleader was so fucked-up. Daddy issues. A whole new magnitude of daddy issues. Interesting to know. Could she maybe work this into one of their scenes? It might piss her off for good, but that might just be worth it.

She was still pondering on it, when she saw her. Miranda was sitting in front of Jack's cot, leaning against it, knees drawn up to her chest. Jack raised her eyebrows, looking at the new suit.

"Been on a shopping spree on Illium?"

"Do you like it?" Miranda asked with a wry smile.

"It's hideous. I think I'm going to rip it off."

For a moment, she thought she'd seen a strange expression on Miranda's face, something Jack couldn't quite place, but it was gone before she could think about it. Must have been her alcohol-addled brain. Was she too drunk for this? Hell, no!

And Miranda was already kneeling before her, looking up at Jack with her most beautifully needy expression.

"You haven't been a good little whore lately," Jack said softly. "If I weren't so generous, I'd just leave you unattended. You wouldn't like that, would you?"

"No, ma'am," came a breathy whisper in reply.

"Do you deserve punishment?"

"Yes!"

Jack smiled.

"Get up."

Miranda rose to her feet quite gracefully.

"Strip."

This was different from the way things usually went, but Miranda obeyed anyway. Jack was relieved she didn't make a show of it, though, just opened the catsuit and pushed it down, stepped out, standing there in all her genetically enhanced perfection. Jack usually bent her over something pretty fast, and rarely took the time to admire the view. At least not her front. A shame, she thought now. She had such a great rack. Jack took her time for once, just looking, from the pale blue eyes that were trying to figure out what was going to happen to her next, to the slender throat, which, after a week or so since their last encounter, still bore the faint traces of bitemarks, down to those perky, buoyant breasts, rosy nipples hard, from cold or arousal, Jack wondered briefly. Her stomach was taut, even the dimple of her navel seemed as if someone had designed it as a textbook example. The curve of her hips could have made an asari stripper jealous. Or possibly horny. The black hair on her mound was trimmed into a neat little v. Long, lean legs. Perfect feet.

"Oh, I think you'll do."

Miranda shivered.

"Anything," she promised in a soft voice. Jack couldn't help smiling at the response. She walked around her quarry.

"That's a bold promise," she murmured against her neck, then pulled Miranda's arms back, and quickly tied her wrists together with a piece of rope she'd lying around just for this kind of occasion. Then she reached around Miranda and cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers. For a second there, she was almost feeling a modicum of tenderness. Jack frowned and took her hands away.

Had to be the alcohol.

She forced Miranda onto her knees and bent her over her cot for a change, then brought her palm down hard on that beautiful pale ass. Miranda twitched and gasped, pushed back against the hand still resting against her abused skin. Jack raked her nails over it, feeling the other woman tremble below her.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"Harder, please, I... I need to be punished," Miranda stammered.

Jack smirked.

"Do you now? And why would that be?"

She let her nails graze over the imprint of her hand on Miranda's ass.

"I was bad," Miranda whispered. Cried out as Jack brought her hand down again. "Harder!"

Jack cursed softly, looking around. She didn't even own a belt. She really, really wanted one now. Well, she'd have to make do with the flat of her hand, then.

Miranda twitched every time Jack's hand connected, buried her face in the blanket, trembling, straining against the rope binding her wrists.

It went on for a while, and it took Jack a moment to eventually realise something was off. But Miranda was starting to shake, and not in a good way. And though it came out muffled due to Jack's bedspread, she was unmistakably sobbing. Also not in a good way.

"Fuck," Jack muttered and let go of her, stared for a moment, numbly, her own feelings threatening to go haywire. Why had the fucking cheerleader not safeworded? Then she quickly undid the restraints and watched as Miranda's arms sank to her sides. Her shoulders were heaving as she cried into the blanket.

"Fuck, hey. Hey!"

Alright, this was bad. She had no idea what to do. Comfort her? Who was she, Saint Shepard? The kindest thing Jack found she could do was not tell her to get the hell out of there.

She paced up and down the subdeck for a while, but that just made her more agitated, and eventually she sat down on the cot, with as much distance as possible between her and the sobbing woman.

Then an idea struck her.

"Sit up," she demanded. For a moment Miranda didn't respond, but then she slowly, laboriously pushed herself up and manoeuvred herself into a sitting position on Jack's cot.

Her face was tear-streaked, but still stupidly beautiful. She wiped at the wetness, then buried her face in her hands. At least she wasn't sobbing anymore.

"Here." Jack pushed the blanket towards her and Miranda pulled it up around her.

After another unbearably awkward moment, Jack pressed out:

"Do you need to talk about it?"

Why did she say that? Really, she should just tell the cheerleader to get lost already.

"Yeah, with you of all people." Miranda lifted her head, took a deep breath. It should have sounded sarcastic, but all that came out was miserable. She wiped at her tears again.

"Well, looks like I'm the only person around whom you can let go."

Miranda groaned, but steadied herself.

"Damnit. It's nothing. And just because we're doing this, doesn't mean you have to pretend you care."

Fuck, the only reason she was here was that she knew Jack didn't care. But it hadn't worked tonight. Her mind just wouldn't go blank. She couldn't let go, couldn't stop the thoughts that had kept repeating themselves over and over in her mind ever since they'd gotten off Illium. She shouldn't have trusted Niket. It was her own sentimentality that had endangered her sister. And killed him. Her stupid desire to have one thing in her life that wasn't tainted by her father. If he'd gotten hold of Ori... Never again. No more attachments. No more weaknesses.

"Alright, then sit here and bawl your eyes out and don't tell me about it. Look at how many fucks I give," Jack said coldly.

Miranda shook her head, then put the blanket aside and got up. Reached for her suit and squeezed herself into it, biting her lip as it slid over her ass.

"Good night, Jack. For what it's worth, I'm sorry this happened."

"It's so sad that you're sorry for having a feeling once in your life."

Miranda didn't look at her when she muttered: "Who are you to talk?"

Then she walked up the stairs, on legs that were visibly shaky, and was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack missed the distraction, that was all. That festering feeling in the pit of her stomach wasn't regret or guilt. It couldn't be. Miranda had been a good lay, nothing else. Without that, Jack's mind went back to how fucked up her life was all the time. Goddamn fucking Cerberus. She could feel her renewed hatred growing inside her like a parasite. Fuck, there had to be some way to get rid of it.

. . .

"Are you really going to do that, Commander?"

"Are you still questioning me, Miranda? After everything?"

_Everything I've done for you_, Miranda heard in what was left unsaid.

"But that's not the same. My sister was important. This isn't."

"This is important to Jack. If it helps her fight her demons and keep a straight head for the rest of the mission, who am I to deny that to her?"

"What if something happens? To any of you?"

"My, I didn't know you cared. Come on, Miranda, you know I'm careful. It's a derelict facility, we're planting the bomb, then get out. Easy as pie. I'm not planning on taking you, if that's what you're worried about."

"That's not what I meant!"

Miranda frowned.

"Actually, I... I'd like to come with you. If you insist on doing that."

Shepard raised her eyebrows.

"That doesn't sound like a good idea, Miranda. Jack is... tense enough already. I don't think your presence will help. Would you have wanted her along when we helped your sister? Also, you're my XO."

Miranda wanted to curse, but kept herself in check. Shepard was raising excellent points.

"Please, Commander, I want to understand her. Give me a chance," she said after a moment.

It was Shepard's turn to frown. If anything could get her to relent, it was a hint at compassion. And Miranda didn't even know anymore if it was an act.

"I'll have to think about it," the Commander said eventually.

. . .

"You brought _her_?" Jack stared at Miranda.

"My call, Jack."

Jack snorted, but knew better than to argue when Shepard used that tone of voice. But the cheerleader of all people! As if she didn't have enough going on without her.

The facility was a miserable place and it made her skin crawl. She wanted to rub her arms all the time, but she felt Miranda's eyes on her and kept still. She hadn't felt this pathetic in a long time.

"Let's just hurry."

Things kept getting worse. Bad memory after bad memory came crashing into her at every corner.

And why were those fucking holos still functional?

"Sounds like this facility turned rogue," Miranda said calmly after the first one.

Jack turned to her and snapped:

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? He didn't say what they were hiding from the Illusive Man."

Miranda caught Shepard's eye, and she bit her lip as the Commander shook her head in warning. Part of her had really wanted to calm Jack down with her words, part of her even wanted to believe what she was saying. But it was odd to stumble over a functioning holo conveniently exculpating Cerberus. She knew too well how the Illusive Man worked.

And the place made her feel sick. That morgue, the small tables...

"They kept children here?" she couldn't help whisper as they made their way towards Jack's cell. It was easy to see that Jack was getting more and more upset. Confused, too, as her memories crumbled around her, and the narrative she'd spun of herself, her survival, was coming undone.

And there was nothing Miranda could do for her. Maybe she really shouldn't have come along.

And why did she want to do something about it, anyway?

Shepard did these things so easily. She just was a born leader. She could charm krogan, for heaven's sake. Miranda was equal parts envy and admiration.

Damn, she even managed to convince Jack to spare that poor excuse for a human being, Aresh. Miranda had a feeling if she'd tried to talk her out of it, Jack would have shot him just to spite her.

. . .

"You can't just come barging in here whenever you feel like it!"

Miranda stared at Jack. For once she looked truly dangerous. Something in Miranda recoiled, even as she wanted to...

What was it that she wanted from Jack? For Jack?

"So, you get to come down on a whim and treat me like your little fuck toy, but I am barging in?"

"Well, some of us actually work on this ship!"

"Oh, screw you! Tell me, are you proud of yourself? Does this fulfil you, working for an organisation that abducted and killed children in droves? Is it a vocation? Is it the money? Benefits? Retirement plan? What could possibly buy your loyalty?"

"I want you to leave, Jack," Miranda said quietly, digging her nails into her palms.

"Or is it just because you have nothing else in your life?"

For once, Miranda lost control. She made to charge at Jack – to do what? Hit her? She never even got close enough to find out what she'd have done.

"Touch me and I'll smear the walls with you, bitch!"

Her barriers easily deflected the attack. Before she could do anything to retaliate, Shepard stormed in.

"Enough! Stand down, both of you!"

"The cheerleader won't admit what Cerberus did to me was wrong!" Jack came dangerously close for a moment, then turned away again.

Miranda forced herself to calm down.

"It wasn't Cerberus. Not really," she said coldly, then sought Jack's eyes. "But clearly you were a mistake."

Jack's eyes widened for a second, then narrowed again.

"Screw you! You've got no idea what they put me through. Maybe it's time I showed you!"

It was almost like one of their games, Miranda thought for a second. She knew that should have worried her, but a small part of her found it exhilarating. She wondered if it was on Jack's mind, too. If Shepard hadn't been there... But there was something in Jack's eyes, a tension in her stance, that told Miranda this was a horrible idea.

Shepard shook her head.

"This mission is too important to let personal feelings get in the way."

"Fuck your feelings! I just want her dead."

Miranda raised an eyebrow.

"You both know what we're up against. Save your anger for the collectors."

"I can put aside my differences," Miranda agreed, taking a step toward Jack, coming uncomfortably close, but she couldn't lose face in front of the Commander. "Until the mission's over." Her face was mere inches from Jack's, and for a moment she was lost in the anger and confusion in her eyes.

"Sure, I'll do my part. I'd hate to see her die before I get a chance to filet her myself!"

Then Jack turned abruptly and rushed out.

"You two gonna be okay?" There was impatience in Shepard's voice, but also some confusion. Had they been too obvious? No, Shepard was not the type to understand this kind of sordid, fucked-up affair. Not with the way she was sweet on Dr T'Soni. Sweet being the key word here.

"It's a good thing you came by when you did." Miranda walked over to her desk again and sat down. "As long as she does her job, we'll be fine. Thanks, Shepard."

"Why did she even come here?"

"Who knows what she's thinking?" Miranda muttered, not meeting the Commander's eyes.

Shepard shook her head in exasperation, then left.

Miranda tried to focus on the report she had been writing before.

_'Or is it just because you have nothing else in your life?'_

Miranda closed her eyes. Jack's words should not be capable of leaving such an impact.

Nothing Jack could do should hurt her like this.

But it had been a perfect assessment of the situation.

. . .

It was a bad idea. A very bad thing to do indeed. She felt painfully giddy as she exited the elevator and walked down those stairs once more. She didn't know why she was doing this again. Was it a self-destructive urge? Was she insane?

The look on Jack's face was strange. Almost like pity. But something else, too. Worry? No, that couldn't be it.

"After everything you're still coming down here? I thought I was a mistake."

"Tell me you didn't think about it."

Jack frowned.

"I did. But it felt different. I really wanted to hurt you. Would have, if you'd let me. I can't do this anymore, cheerleader. I don't trust myself around you, I don't have that level of control..."

Miranda stared at her.

"Do you want me to beg?" she asked softly.

"Do you hate yourself so much that you need this from me, of all people?"

"Damnit, Jack! What do you care? Didn't you threaten to filet me? You want to hurt me, just do it."

Jack gave her a small, oddly unhappy smile.

"Maybe I just don't want to hurt you that much. Find another way to deal with your issues, I can't..."

"Oh, go to hell."

Jack watched her stomp off, then lay back, thinking about herself, about Miranda. A part of Jack had wanted to reach out to her, and that had startled her. And anyway, she didn't have the slightest idea how to even begin.

But how strange to realise that someone so superficially perfect could be so broken underneath. At least, Jack thought, at least she was honest about how fucked-up she was. And that helped. But maybe, just maybe, she had to learn how to let go. She was not a scared child anymore. Perhaps there was more to life than just survival.

If she survived this fucking mission. Shepard made her almost believe it was possible.

. . .

On the first day after their victory, they were all just stunned that they'd survived. All of them. On the second day, once they'd made their way back through the relay, they'd decided they deserved a party.

Jack actually felt – happy? No, that wasn't quite it. Accomplished was more like it. Relieved as well. Enough to join in and tell some dirty jokes and challenge Vakarian to a drinking contest. He wormed his way out, claiming there wasn't enough dextro booze on the ship.

She kept glancing at Miranda, who was standing in a corner, pale and serious-looking, as she talked to Shepard and Jacob, who both seemed worried. Jack knew Cerberus well enough to guess at the content of that conversation. It probably had serious repercussions to turn your back on the Illusive Man. Especially as spectacularly as Miranda had done.

Well, it was her own fault for working for him in the first place, wasn't it?

But Jack couldn't help remembering that she'd been there as they'd made their way through the swarm, constantly standing in Jack's way as she'd strained to keep up the barrier. Neglecting her own cover. Like a fucking human shield...

The next time Jack tore her eyes away from the oddly entertaining sight of a drunk Tali trying to hit on the oblivious turian, Miranda was gone.

Eventually it was all getting too much and she sneaked off, made her way down into engineering, where she sat on her cot, back against the wall, eyes closed, thinking about what to do next.

Then she heard the elevator, and sure enough, the familiar sound of Miranda's steps on the stairs.

Jack opened her eyes and frowned up at her. She still wore the stupid uniform, but the logo was gone. And with it something else, too.

There was nothing haughty about Miranda anymore.

There was nothing fake about Miranda anymore.

Jack instinctively wanted to tell her to fuck off.

And found she couldn't.

"What?" she asked tersely.

"I came to say goodbye. Shepard is planning on turning herself in to the Alliance, and I'm not keen on being arrested."

Miranda approached Jack, stood in front of her, then slowly lowered herself until their eyes were level.

This is all your own fault, Jack wanted to say.

"What do you expect me to say?" was all she managed.

"Nothing. I... I would apologise if I thought it would change anything..."

"It wasn't you," Jack admitted in a low voice. Then she added quickly: "Besides, I don't care."

"You did at some point. Nevermind. Just one more thing, then I'll be gone."

"Fine, what is it?"

She should have pulled away, or at least bitten her, bruised her lips. Instead, it was all trembling sweetness, just lips on lips at first, then tongue tips meeting, caressing, exploring one another with excruciating tenderness. Miranda's fingertips were stroking her neck ever so gently and Jack was absolutely lost.

"You were never a mistake."

Then she stood up, turned around and was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

_And here's the fluff now! I think I got a bit carried away writing this..._

* * *

She had followed Shepard, on a whim. Jack had had a coffee break when she'd spotted her, making her way to the apartments atop the Presidium commons. Burned her tongue when she'd downed the coffee in a hurry, then sneaked after the Commander. Thought vaguely that Shepard might need help somehow. After all, that woman always got into trouble, one way or the other, and Jack owed her. Her life, in many respects.

Jack only got a glance of brown hair and a pale face as an apartment door was being opened and Shepard vanished inside, but it was unmistakably her.

For a moment, Jack was torn. She had to be back on duty soon. So far she'd been a spectacularly disciplined soldier, at least for her own standards. But with the fucking war on, this might well be her last chance...

To what?

To her relief, Shepard left again after only a few minutes. When she was gone, Jack knocked. No hesitation.

Of course no one opened. She'd figured Miranda had to be careful. But she had no patience.

"It's me, Jack!" she yelled.

In an instant, the door flew open and she was yanked inside, then the door was locked behind her.

"Damnit, could you be any more obvious?"

"Hey, not even Shepard noticed me. 'sides, if she wasn't followed by anyone, odds are pretty good I wasn't, either."

"I guess you're right."

Then they just stood there, each taking in the other one in silence. Miranda looked pale and tired, and she'd lost weight she couldn't really afford to lose, Jack thought.

"You're looking good, Jack."

"You look like you're in trouble."

Miranda made a movement that was half nod and half shrug. It was very strange to see her look so vulnerable.

"Look, Miranda, I... I wanted to say..." Jack cursed her lack of eloquence. Putting feelings into words was really not her thing. "What happened between us, it was kind of fucked-up and at the end, there wasn't the time... oh fuck..."

Miranda nodded slowly.

"I represented the thing you hated more than anything else. I couldn't have asked you for anything..." She faltered. "I wish I'd stopped lying to myself sooner. Not that that changes anything."

"Oh, screw it!" Jack muttered, closed the gap between them and pulled Miranda against her. Tenderness wasn't exactly something she was overly comfortable with, but it was better than fumbling for words to express how she felt. Miranda eased into the embrace after a moment, rested her head against Jack's shoulder, let one hand slowly explore all that unfamiliar hair.

"Our timing is just awful, isn't it?" she muttered.

"Fuck, that reminds me. I have to be on duty in ten minutes or so." She let go slowly, looked at Miranda. "Will you still be here tonight?"

"I can stay. Unless someone finds me first, but there have been no attacks in a while. This place is as safe as it gets, for now."

"I'll be back tonight, alright?"

Miranda let her hand rest against Jack's cheek for a moment.

"I'll be waiting."

It was the longest shift Jack had ever had. She tried hard not to let her frustration show, but she was glad for once that there was no swear jar. They didn't pay her that much. Afterwards, she took a quick shower, then made her way back to Miranda's apartment, more than nervous, all of a sudden. It had been so much easier just to act on impulse earlier that day. Now she couldn't help obsessing about what they might say or do, and while some of her ideas were rather intriguing, she had never before felt at a loss like that.

Perhaps Miranda would be gone? What if no one would open that door?

What if she'd been attacked?

Jack hadn't exactly been on the forefront of Miranda's thinking those last months. She couldn't have afforded it. She'd had to survive, and then she'd been too worried about Ori. But sometimes, during that moment between wondering whether her hiding place was safe enough to risk falling asleep and the inevitable shutdown of her mind due to sheer exhaustion, Jack had wormed herself into her thoughts. She'd wondered where she was, whether she was safe, and after Miranda had learned that she'd taken that job with the Alliance, she'd found herself hoping Jack was happy.

She had not expected to see her again.

And dear lord, she'd been even more beautiful than Miranda remembered, questionable sartorial choices aside.

She spent most of the afternoon checking the Alliance resources Shepard had given her access to, vaguely thinking that nothing she could do would ever be enough to repay her. She'd be in her debt forever, just like the rest of the galaxy. Miranda had long since given up on being jealous, and had settled for a mixture of awe and gratitude instead.

Eventually, though, she couldn't concentrate anymore and lay down, staring at the ceiling, waiting.

Time didn't seem to pass at all, until finally there was an unsteady knock on the door and Jack's voice called out, sounding strained. Miranda's heart started racing. Had they gotten to her somehow? Had she put her in danger? She got up quickly, opened the door, ready for anything. But it was just Jack, though with a good measure of anxiety etched into her features.

Jack rushed in, closed the door, then pushed Miranda against the wall and kissed her hard, until her panic subsided.

"Fuck," she murmured into Miranda's hair. "Fuck, I thought you might be gone, or..."

"I'm here, Jack." She let her hand travel up to Jack's neck, the back of her head, carefully undid the ponytail, let her fingers run through Jack's hair.

They were naked and on the impersonal looking bed in a flash, and Jack let Miranda fuck her for the very first time. Fingers deep, but gentle, almost too gentle, but just as clever as her tongue.

And later, her head buried between Miranda's thighs, and fuck, she even tasted perfect, Jack had almost forgotten about that.

And after that, somehow, they ended up spooning, of all things, with Miranda behind her, kissing and caressing every scar she found on Jack's body.

"Are you sure you aren't part krogan?"

"Excuse me?"

"The scars. I heard krogan are turned on by them."

Miranda snorted and pulled her closer.

"They don't turn me on."

"You trying to kiss them better?"

"Shut up, Jack."

"Make me!"

Miranda smiled. She was astonished that she hadn't forgotten how to do that.

"I could finally tell you how gorgeous I think you are."

"And I could warp you!" Jack spluttered.

"How you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

"Seriously, that's the cheesiest thing you could..."

"How I love the way you feel around my fingers, warm and wet and squeezing like you never want to let go again."

Jack bit her lip.

"That's... better," she muttered huskily.

"Hair is a bit too well-adjusted, though."

Jack frowned.

"You think so?"

"No, it looks good, just screwing with you."

"You wish you were."

They were too busy to talk for a long time after that.

Then:

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Miranda buried her face against a heavily-tattooed chest.

"No," she muttered.

"I could help you, you know. Once you get us to work together, we're basically unstoppable."

"Oh Jack. No. Look at you. You're happy with the Alliance."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Hm?"

Jack combed her fingers through Miranda's hair.

"I know someone sent my dossier to the Alliance, and it wasn't Shepard, I asked her. Who else had access? Come on, Miri, I'm not stupid."

Miranda looked up.

"What?" Jack asked. "Don't want me to call you that?"

"No, just pondering on the implications. I think it means we're married now."

Jack snorted.

"In any case, I may have done that, but the Alliance saw _your_ merit. This is your achievement, not mine. Anyway, there's a war going on, and I can't steal away good soldiers for my own petty affairs."

"You're going to do something that puts you in even more danger than being on the run from Cerberus, aren't you?"

Miranda put a fingertip to her lips.

"I am taking all the precautions I can. And maybe, if all this is ever over, and we're both still alive..."

Jack bit her fingertip softly, let her tongue swirl around it for a moment, then said:

"What then?"

"I'm going to find you and ask you out, and if you're interested, we'll be all awkwardness and excitement and wondering if we'll be considered easy for putting out on the first date."

"Your fantasies are even more depraved than I remember," Jack murmured. Then she frowned. "Hey. Fuck, don't cry."

"I'm not," Miranda muttered, but hid her face again, busied herself with kissing Jack's breasts until she regained some measure of control over herself.

"It'll be terrible at first," Jack said lowly, stroking her back. "You'll spend hours unable to decide what to wear, and I'll go crazy because I won't know what to do with my hair, and during dinner, I'll spill food all over me and there'll be awkward silences, and I'll agonise about whether or not you'll expect me to kiss you at the end of the date, but then you'll ask me if I want to come up for 'coffee' and I'll be like 'Fuck, yes!' and you'll smile and there won't be any coffee that night, but maybe the morning after."

Miranda looked up and gave her a quizzical look.

"How do you even know about things like that?"

Jack muttered something vague about students and movie nights, and actually blushed a little. Miranda smirked, then added:

"And then we'll be dating, and I'll ask you to meet my sister..."

"She'll seriously question your taste. And possibly your sanity."

"She'll think you're funny."

"And then we'll find an apartment and move in together."

"You'll have to have our babies," Miranda muttered.

"We'll get a cat!" Jack said emphatically.

"We'll fight and have make-up sex."

"Lots of it."

"We might get a second cat."

Jack smiled, even though something inside her had started to ache terribly.

"We'll be all normal and boring and well-adjusted."

"We're going to love it so much it'll be embarrassing."

"We'll be heading for Earth soon," Jack said abruptly.

Miranda took a deep breath.

"I can't stay here much longer, either. Jack... no matter what happens, I am glad we had this chance."

Jack wanted to protest, wanted to make her promise to stay alive, but she knew it was an impossible demand. Knew she wouldn't be able to make a promise like that in return, either. Instead she muttered:

"You better not get yourself killed. You're the greatest lay I've ever had."

Miranda just replied, very quietly, something that sounded awfully like "Love you, too."


	6. Chapter 6

_Y'all reviewers are lovely, lovely creatures who make me keep writing even when I feel stuck._

_A note: Like so many people, I have my own headcanon ending. In it, the Reapers are destroyed, but the Geth and EDI live. The Mass Relays are partially damaged, but not beyond repair. Shepard dies, though. Just FYI._

* * *

Lying still in a hospital bed for weeks had to be Jack's least favourite activity ever. Particularly since she had to lie on her stomach, due to the deep wounds on her back. It was uncomfortable, it was boring, and she hated not being able to have an overview of the entire crowded room, it made her feel nervous and vulnerable.

Once she'd known nothing vital had been damaged, and that she'd make a full recovery, the vain part of her, which she usually tried to deny existed, had cringed at the thought of her tattoos. She'd always acquired scars easily and rarely given them a second thought, but these were going to be massive.

Goddamn fucking brutes.

"Your barriers were weak, ma'am."

"I hate you, Rodriguez." Then she added, less gruffly: "How's Prangley?"

"Oh, the doctors said he'll get an artificial leg. They seemed very confident that it'll be just as good as... well. One of his eyes couldn't be saved, though. And he's still a little shell-shocked."

Jack had known her long enough to hear that there was more going on.

"What's wrong?"

"He says I shouldn't waste my life with a... a cripple."

Jack huffed.

"Has he looked around? Half the galaxy has died and the rest of us haven't exactly gone unscathed."

She turned her head as far as it would go, but all she could see was the young woman's torso.

"Give him time, he'll come around."

"I hope so."

She dropped down beside Jack's bed and looked at her with a small frown. She seemed so much older these days, Jack thought.

"Rodriguez?"

"Ma'am?"

"I'll never admit I said that, but I'm proud of you."

"Thank you. I never wanted to be a soldier, I'm not staying with the Alliance. Rebuilding is much more like it. But I couldn't not have fought. And you, ma'am... you helped a lot."

"Alright, enough with this maudlin stuff!" Jack sighed.

"How are you, ma'am?"

"If boredom could kill... They won't let me go, a broken femur is a bitch, or so I've been told. And my back is itching like hell all the time. Not complaining, though. I live."

Not that she knew where to go, anyway.

"Do you need anything? Not that there is much I can provide. Another novel, maybe?"

"Fuck, no, one more romance story and I'll puke. But thanks, Tina."

Rodriguez rolled her eyes.

"Suit yourself."

Jack had a hard time falling asleep in the hospital. Too many people, too many noises. She could ignore the pangs of pain and the itching, but not the mutters and the snoring and the screams and the shuffling and the crying all around, at any time. She didn't know much about the state of the galaxy, news travelled slowly these days. Communication and travel between systems had become difficult, though not impossible. As far as she knew, people were still trying to assess the damage. It appeared Shepard had died to save them all, that much she had heard. Even though no one could tell what had really gone down. She couldn't say how she felt about that, so far she'd managed to force her thoughts away from the topic whenever they happened to stray too close.

Most of her students had survived. She had survived.

It was more than she'd hoped for.

It had to do, for the time being.

. . .

She did what she could, and what needed doing. Miranda had always had a talent for organisation, and while there was too much bad blood between her and Alliance brass for her to even consider joining the military and for them to ever accept her, they came to a slightly wary, but mutually beneficial arrangement. Whatever contacts she still had, whatever resources and intel she managed to gather through dubious connections, she put it all to good use, in exchange for a place to stay, and the bare necessities. It was not quite the same thing as being an information broker, but similar. She was the central node in a widening network, but without the secrecy, without agents, without demanding payment. Just gathering information and taking inventory of resources – essential things, provisions, construction material, medical supplies, unassigned workforce.

Just making life a little easier for everyone.

Atonement, perhaps.

And maybe someday, a certain name would cross her desk. She'd put out some feelers.

But for now, she couldn't be selfish. Her father was dead, Ori was safe.

It was all she'd ever hoped for.

Seeing a familiar face was quite a shock. The memories that surfaced at the sight of Kasumi, sitting nonchalantly on her desk one morning, made her tremble.

"Hey Miranda!"

"I didn't even know you had a forehead."

"Don't tell anyone." Kasumi winked. Then she slid off the desk and hugged Miranda, who returned it, to her own surprise. She even fought the urge to look around and check if anything was gone.

"I'm so glad you're alive," Miranda said, and meant it.

"Same here."

"Is this a social call?"

"Pretty much. I heard your name and, well, it's always nice to find out someone has survived."

"It is."

Kasumi fidgeted quite unlike herself.

"You don't happen to know anything about anyone else?"

"I saw Jacob once," Miranda said with a small smile. "He was injured in the final days of the war, but nothing that can't be fixed."

"Thank you," Kasumi all but sighed.

"He also has a wife and by now probably a child."

"I know." Kasumi laughed. "I gave up on that long ago. I actually met her. Brynn. I didn't even manage to be resentful. I'm way too nice."

Then she grew serious again.

"Any news on the Normandy?"

"Nothing but rumours."

There was a heavy, mournful silence.

"So, what does a master thief do on a planet that lies in ruins?" Miranda asked quickly.

"Tech skills are always needed. I haven't officially joined the Alliance, but I, uhm, advise. You seem to have a similar arrangement."

Miranda nodded.

"They don't trust me, but they've realised I'm quite useful. Until things have calmed down, at least."

"Do you have plans for dinner?"

Miranda raised an eyebrow.

"The same as every night, eating meagre rations by myself in the back room."

"Care for company?"

"Sure."

It had been so long since she'd talked to anyone about anything that wasn't work or war-related, she had almost forgotten how to do that. But then, hardly anything they could talk about wasn't war-related, one way or another.

"I don't regret it."

"Why should you? That man was a monster. Good for you that you killed him," Kasumi said resolutely. "Any news on your sister?"

"Last time I heard, the colony I left her on was doing well. Better than this giant heap of rubble. Communication between systems is still frustratingly slow."

"Working on that," Kasumi muttered.

And then they started reminiscing, which was very strange, because Miranda hadn't been aware that she had so many fond memories of her time on the Normandy, and all of her crew. She had left most of it unexamined before, afraid it might hurt too much. She couldn't believe Shepard was gone. And she knew she'd missed out on making friends with amazing people because she'd kept everyone at a distance for too long.

Almost everyone.

"I miss Jack." God, but it needed saying.

Kasumi gave her a speculative look.

"So there was something between you, after all. You had me wondering there."

Miranda rested her head on the knees she'd drawn up to her chest.

"It was all wrong. I was. We were both so damaged." She sighed. "I promised her a date after the war."

"This I have to see."

"I have no idea where she is, or if she's even still alive."

"She was stationed in Barcelona, last time I heard. Before the end of the war."

Miranda stared at her.

"How do you know?"

"I'm working with a woman who was at Grissom Academy. Octavia. I mentioned Shepard once and she asked if I knew Jack. 'That crazy lady with the tattoos.' Said her biotic friends had been needed on the mainland, a few weeks before the end of the war. But she hadn't heard from anyone since."

"Barcelona."

Miranda's head spun.

"Wow," Kasumi said. "You really do like her. You actually look like you might faint. Please don't."

"You have no idea how much that means to me."

Kasumi tilted her head to the side and gave her a pensive look.

"You've come a long way, haven't you?"

Miranda merely shrugged. She didn't like thinking about who she used to be, much less talk about it.

"I suppose. But right now, I've no idea where I'm going."

"To Barcelona."

Miranda averted her eyes.

"What if she's dead?" she whispered.

"I don't think anything can kill Jack."

"That's what I thought about Shepard..."

"Yeah. I know." Kasumi sighed. "Still. Better to be certain, right?"

"I suppose..."


	7. Chapter 7

Fucking crutches. It had been five months now, and they kept telling her that she still oughtn't put her whole weight on her left leg.

At least Jack was well enough to have something to do again. Even if she had to do it sitting down. Shifting debris was not exactly fulfilling, but it needed doing, and doing it with biotics of her dimension was a whole lot more effective than any other way. Like a human crane.

It felt good to be this wanted, though. And not wanted as in dead or alive. The Alliance was positively flooding her with requests. She'd even gotten offers from private citizens. She wanted to take them up on them, wanted the money to go into rebuilding the academy. But she was not yet at the height of her powers again. She grew tired so much faster these days.

. . .

She was an amazing sight.

There was a crowd of people watching Jack, as she sat in front of a collapsed office block, hands glowing, making massive pieces of rubble soar through the air and into containers. Looking bored.

She'd seen teams of biotics do that before, but they weren't half as good in a group than Jack was on her own.

For a long time, Miranda just stood there and watched her like everyone else, heart beating painfully hard. It had taken weeks to find her, she'd been moved around Europe several times.

Her hair was even longer now, and she was downright covered up, at least by Jack's standards, dressed in baggy black pants and a black tank top that was hardly even tight. A pair of crutches leant against the stone block she was sitting on.

Only when she stopped for a moment, glow dissipating, did Miranda finally approach.

"Need help with that?" she asked, sitting down next to Jack.

"Fuck!" was all Jack said, staring at her.

"Not right here."

"Fuck, Miri..." Jack's voice broke.

"You look surprised. Didn't I say I'd find you?" Miranda slipped her arm around her.

"You did." Jack leant her head against Miranda's shoulder, let herself be pulled closer.

"So. Would you care for that terrible first date?"

"Sure. But I don't think there are any restaurants right now. Rationing and all."

"Oh, we'll find a place to eat out," Miranda whispered against her ear.

"Hah. You've always been so naughty, for someone who used to be so uptight."

"Just one of my many qualities."

"You're also a pretty good kisser, if memory serves."

Miranda put her hand beneath Jack's chin, gently tilted her head up, and kissed her deeply.

There was a burst of applause and quite a number of catcalls, and then Jack threatened to warp a lot of people, which made their audience scatter. Miranda just kept stroking her neck languidly, feeling inexplicably light-headed.

"How have you been?"

"Oh, it was great, just lovely. I hade a nice little encounter with a handful of brutes right before they all just stopped working. Then I was out cold for a while. Then I stayed in hospital for a few months. It was just one long party. The kind where people keep dying from all the fun."

Miranda's stomach clenched painfully.

"How badly were you injured?"

"You're going to be so turned on by my new scars."

"You're impossible."

"You love it."

"I do."

She kissed her again.

"There'll be a few positions we won't be able to do until my leg has healed," Jack muttered after a moment.

"Sounds like I'll have to be in control for a while. I can live with that."

"How have you been?"

"I have a pretty impressive scar of my own now. I'll show you later. And I committed patricide. More or less justifiably. Got my sister out of harm's way, as best I could. Then I put together my own special tasks force and joined the war effort. Somehow, I survived without more than a few bruises and scratches."

"Good." Jack let her hands trail over Miranda's back. "I still have some work to do here, but I'll be done around sunset. I have a place, not too far from here."

"Look at you being busy and responsible all the time." Miranda smiled. "I'll see if I can't get something special for dinner in the meantime."

Jack leant in for another kiss.

"You do that. Come get me later."

"Oh, I will."

. . .

Jack had never imagined she'd really be this awkward. Hadn't she fucked Miranda dozens of times?

The problem was, it had been all they'd ever done. Stolen moments, secrets, feelings conflicting at best. She'd never had a date in her entire life, nothing she'd ever even done with Murtock could really qualify as such. Hell, she'd probably have punched him if he'd ever suggested...

Now there was something she didn't want to think about. Not ever, but especially not right now.

Miranda Lawson of all people. How had that happened?

Jack knew she was in too deep already, and she didn't even want to fight it. She'd been fighting everything for so long. Her gaze travelled almost furtively over Miranda. At least she'd stopped wearing those things. Looked almost understated in black slacks and a shirt whose neckline dropped enticingly just a little too low for respectable. Jack wanted to run her tongue along it. Maybe leave a bite that would be visible every time Miranda shifted...

"Are you done?"

"Huh?"

Miranda's lips twitched briefly, then she seemed to force herself to look serious.

"Eating. Are you done?"

Jack nodded mutely.

"I found us some dessert."

Jack's eyes widened. It looked ever so slightly soggy, but there was an entire chocolate cake in the box Miranda unpacked.

"You must have sold your soul for that!"

"Yeah, but the look on your face was worth it."

"Where's yours?"

Miranda tilted her head back and laughed.

"You could never eat that on your own! You're tiny."

"I've spent the day lifting boulders, I need the energy."

Miranda raised an eyebrow.

"Eat it. I dare you."

"Nah, I can share. I'm a paragon of selflessness."

"Of course you are."

Miranda watched Jack eat for a while, astonished by her uncharacteristic timidity. Somehow she looked unsure of herself, of the entire situation. Miranda wondered what was going on inside her.

Sometimes she forgot how much younger Jack was.

"You've got chocolate on your cheek." She bent forward and brushed her fingertips over her skin, then licked Jack's lips, which parted at once.

"I'm done with dessert. You?"

The look Jack gave her made her think it may have been the wrong move, but then Jack said: "Bedroom is through there."

Miranda almost reached out to help her up, then thought better of it. She'd tried to play it down, but it was blatantly obvious that Jack hated the crutches, hated being weak, and offering help would probably have upset her.

She seemed upset enough already.

The bedroom was as tiny as the rest of the apartment, no more than a bed and a wardrobe. Considering what most people had to make do with these days, it was a palace.

Jack sat down and put the crutches aside, then looked up at Miranda.

"What's wrong, Jack? Just tell me."

"Look... fuck. I've never given a second thought about what people thought of me and what I look like..."

Miranda sat down next to her.

"But?" she asked gently.

"This is different. And I... Oh screw it." She pulled her top off and turned slightly. "Have a look."

Miranda grimaced at the sight of the large red welts cutting across Jack's back, breaking her tattoos.

"That must have been painful," she whispered.

"I have a high threshold for pain."

"Do they still hurt?"

"Barely."

"Jack. This doesn't bother me. You're the most amazingly beautiful woman I've ever seen. Everything about you just makes me feel on fire."

Jack tensed visibly.

"Don't say that shit, Lawson!"

Miranda put her hands on Jack's shoulders, turned her towards her and looked into her eyes.

"If you have doubts about this, just tell me. It's alright. But don't doubt me."

"What do you even want with me? Look at you. You could have anyone. And I'm just... this."

"I don't want just anyone. I want the only person who has ever seen beyond the façade. I want the person who forced me to doubt myself, to face... everything that was wrong with me. And that woman happens to be very, very attractive, and I can hardly keep myself from jumping her."

She stroked Jack's cheek lightly.

"But if you don't want this, if it's too much right now, I can back off."

"Life was so much easier when all I had to do was survive." Jack rubbed her forehead. "Alright, I'm confused by all this. Us. Feelings and shit like that. Doesn't mean I want you to back off."

"What do you want?"

Jack let her fingers trail along Miranda's neckline, then she bent forward and traced the same path with her lips.

"Oh," Miranda muttered, let herself be pushed back onto the bed. Jack lay down beside her, on her good side, and started undressing her slowly.

"That one's impressive, too." Jack's fingertips skimmed over the scar on Miranda's side.

"Just a scratch. Bastard got what was coming to him."

Jack bent over her and started kissing and licking her throat, down to her full, incredibly soft breasts.

"I've missed those," she whispered against Miranda's skin, let her tongue circle around a small, hard nipple, sucked it, bit it gently, then turned her attention to the other, one hand in Miranda's hair, the other moving down her stomach, worming into her pants. Miranda gasped, arched her back.

"I've missed this," she replied.

"I can feel that," Jack said, coming up for air, fingers slipping into warm wetness, moving in and out torturously slow. Miranda tried to push against her fingers, but Jack pulled away with a smirk.

"Just take my trousers off already, you fucking tease!"

Jack sniggered, but complied quickly enough, threw Miranda's clothes carelessly into a corner, then trailed her wet fingers up her thighs. Caressed the soft curls, circled her clit deftly, listened to her heavy breathing, her name murmured in between low gasps.

"Jack, please..."

Jack moved over her, kissed her deeply, then she pushed her fingers hard into Miranda, thumb rubbing relentessly against her clit. Miranda's hips buckled, started moving in time with Jack's thrusts, fingers tangling in her hair, mouth bruising against Jack's. Cries muffled by Jack's mouth as she came, clenching down on Jack's fingers. Jack slowed down, but kept moving until she felt Miranda tremble and twitch again, then let go of her with a satisfied smile. Squeaked in an undignified way when Miranda pushed her onto her back all of a sudden and moved atop her, knee sliding between Jack's still frustratingly clad legs.

"Hey there."

Jack looked up into her beautifully flushed face, twinkling eyes, lips curled into a promising smile. Miranda's hair fell all around them, and Jack twined her hands in it as she pulled her down into another kiss. Miranda's palms rested on her tits, nipples hardening under the maddeningly light touch. She let go of Jack's mouth and traced her lips down her body, kissed her chest, stomach, then opened her trousers and peeled them off carefully. Jack pushed herself up on her elbows, watched Miranda tentatively stroking the scar on her left thigh.

"I know you think they turn me on, but I'd prefer if you wouldn't get more. Any more and I'll never be able to contain myself." She kissed the scar gently, then spread Jack's legs and moved her mouth up her left thigh. Jack wanted to reply something, but fell back onto the bed when Miranda let her tongue dip into her, sampled her briefly, before contenting herself with putting soft kisses to the dark curls, avoiding any place that might have given Jack relief.

"Who's the fucking tease now?" Jack growled.

"What do you want me to do?" Miranda asked with a smile, one hand splayed against Jack's thigh, the other stroking her stomach.

"Lick me. Fuck me. Anything, just... oh!"

Miranda had let a finger slip into Jack, and bent down again to flick her tongue over her clit. Jack wanted to lift her hips towards her, but Miranda held her down, looked up and shook her head disapprovingly.

"No putting pressure on the leg, remember?" she said innocently, and Jack cursed lowly, then reached out and put her hand to Miranda's head, pushed her down gently enough, but insistently. Miranda relented and kissed her swollen clit, teased it with broad strokes of her tongue, then started sucking in earnest. Added a second finger and moved in and out of her rapidly. She doubled her efforts as Jack's legs clamped around her head, profanities spilling from her lips, before she suddenly fell silent, tensed up and came, fingers tangling painfully in Miranda's hair.

"Sorry..." She smoothed Miranda's hair after a moment, patted her head gently. "Sorry."

"It's alright." Miranda moved up a little, rested her head on Jack's stomach, let her fingers trace over her tattoos.

"Come up here, Miri," Jack asked lowly after a while. Miranda disentangled herself from Jack's floppy legs and stretched out next to her. Jack leant against her, grasped her hand, closed her eyes.

"I'm a fitful sleeper. Just a heads-up."

Miranda looked down at their entwined fingers, an odd flurry in her stomach, thumb stroking in circles over the calloused skin.

"Are you tired already?" she teased gently.

"I've had a long day!" Jack protested, opened her eyes again and frowned at Miranda, who smiled back at Jack and kissed her nose, then pulled the blanket over them.

"Night-night."

Miranda watched Jack for a long time after the other woman had fallen asleep, thoughts drifting. She had no illusions that it would be easy for them to do this, but she was determined to make it work. They'd come a long way, but Jack still had her demons, and Miranda knew she'd already come close to pushing her too far, too fast. But she also knew that her being here, with Jack, meant that Jack had decided to trust her, a little at least.

Right now, it made her happier than she could remember ever being.

* * *

_-The End-_


End file.
